Priscilla's Gift
by Min the Noodle
Summary: A young myrmidon learns the price of life in one fateful Colosseum battle. Rated for violence. Oneshot.


Min: Well, what do you know? My first fanfiction in ages! I haven't updated since, what, September of last year? Gee, that's sad….

But on to business. This is my first Fire Emblem fanfiction, a oneshot, thanks to a special person named Link015 who encouraged me to write again. I got the idea when I was playing the new Fire Emblem, the Sacred Stones (which is NOT what this fic is about, by the way). I spent three hours playing in the Colosseum on Chapter 12, Ephraim's story, and my pupil, Ewan, died all but four of the times. Gah, that was annoying.

I don't own Fire Emblem or any of the characters represented in this story. Thanks for your time.

(Note: _Italics _are Guy's memories.)

The Myrmidon stood alone in the arena. The crowds pressed in around him, shoving each other as they forced their way to the barricades that kept them out of the ring. Their screams and yells filled him with an exhilarating kind of tense excitement that went beyond words. He shaded his eyes, scanning the opposite gate for any sign of his opponent. His fingers brushed against the soft white feather tucked deep into the back of his headband.

"_I'm going to be the strongest swordsman in all of Sacae someday!" he told Priscilla cheerfully, swinging his sword in an arc, dancing back and forth away from imaginary enemies. "Just you watch! I'll be so strong that nobody will be able to beat me!"_

_The troubadour smiled. The myrmidon was in good spirits today. Anticipation of the coming battle had filled him with boundless enthusiasm. "I know you will, Guy," she said encouragingly. "I believe every word."_

_Guy continued, chopping at an overhanging branch. "I'll fight opponent after opponent. I'll work and hone my skill until I'm unstoppable!" They were in the courtyard of Castle Caelin, Guy's favorite place to practice his swordsmanship. A gentle breeze blew the trees' discarded red and gold leaves in circles on the ground. The crisp autumn air nipped at their cheeks and hands._

"_I don't doubt it for a second." Reaching up behind her ear, Priscilla retrieved something from her auburn hair. Taking Guy's hand, she pressed it into his palm. When he uncurled his fingers, he saw that it was a feather, white and perfectly formed. "When you do fight in the arena in front of everyone, will you wear this to remember me?"_

_Guy stared it at. "But Priscilla!" he protested. "This is _your_ feather! I can't- I mean-"_

_She lowered her head. "I- I understand if you don't want it," she whispered. "It was a silly thought anyway…."_

_He seized her hands and she looked up, startled, through tear-filled eyes. "No! That's not what I meant at all! I would be honored to wear your feather!"_

_She stared up at him. Guy found himself drowning in her green, green eyes, now reddened with tears. To him they were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. "Would you? Would you truly?" she asked haltingly, as if almost afraid to hope._

_He grinned at her. "Of course I do. Sacaens never lie."_

The noise from the crowd swelled to a roar. Chains clanked as the opposite gate creaked open with a rusty wail, making the hair on the back of Guy's neck stand up. He gripped his sword tighter, glancing to the right up into the stands. His eyes ran over the crowd, searching. Finally, his gaze settled on one particular face in the midst of the crowd. Priscilla watched him, her face a mix of pride and worry. He smiled and waved. _I'm wearing your feather,_ he thought. _See? I remembered._

An ear-splitting bellow cut into his thoughts. Guy refocused his attention on his opponent, a wyvern lord. His mouth felt dry; he licked his lips to moisten them. The dragon paced back and forth on the other side of the arena, its tail lashing the air like a whip. Its rider readied a sword and lance, watching Guy through his helmet's visor. The myrmidon could feel the man's gaze boring through him. His heart beat wildly like a thousand drums vying for one place in an orchestra. An adrenaline rush hit him, sending a furious, tingling energy through his veins.

A magical explosion signaled the start of the match. Guy leapt forward, thrusting with Killing Edge. The wyvern lord took flight, parrying with his lance. Guy slid back and shifted to get better footing on the packed Colosseum sand. He waited for the wyvern lord, squinting up at him. He cursed; the man had maneuvered so that the sun was in Guy's eyes. He braced himself for his opponent's next move.

Without warning, the wyvern plunged towards him, jaws wide. Guy dodged its snapping teeth only to feel the sharp edge of a sword bite deep into his left shoulder. He couldn't stifle the scream that escaped his lips. Oh Elamine, it hurt! It stung, it burned as if his blood were eating away at his own flesh. As he staggered back, fending off blows and the wyvern's teeth, he caught a glimpse of the sword's tip. It was stained a dark purple. _Poison!_

His Killing Edge caught the side of the wyvern's head, opening a large gash through the dragon's tough scales. It took flight with a shriek, giving Guy a moment's reprieve. He clutched his wounded shoulder and gritted his teeth. His blood dripped crimson from his wound, staining the sand.

"_Guy? What's it like in Sacae?"_

_They sat together under a shaded oak, watching the clouds travel across the great blue expanse that was the sky. Guy watched Priscilla out of the corner of his vision. Her eyes were closed, her lashes casting a faint shadow on her cheeks. He leaned forward to clasp his arms around his knees. "Well," he began, "it's bigger than Caelin. At least, it seems that way. It's wider, with more open space. Nothing's crowded there. There aren't many forts or big stone structures, either," he added, motioning towards Castle Caelin. "'Most everyone lives in tents."_

_Priscilla opened her eyes and gazed at him. "What about plants? And flowers?"_

_He looked up. The clouds were fluffy wisps now, like cotton being pulled by an invisible pair of pinched fingers. "Flowers? Um… let's see. Daisies, of course. Lilies too, and buttercups. Speargrass, but that's not a flower. Orchids, harebells…."_

"_Orchids are nice," Priscilla said. "They're so beautiful. I've always liked orchids."_

_The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. "I think you're-"_

_Priscilla blinked. "Yes…?"_

_He coughed, feeling his cheeks burn with sudden heat. "Ah. I mean, I think _they're _pretty, too."_

"_Hm?"_

"_Er, never mind." He thought a while, listening to the birds sing in the trees. "Hmm…. There are sundews back home, too. Those are interesting."_

"_Sundews?" she inquired. "What are those?"_

"_Big, hairy plants that eat insects."_

"_Oh." She didn't seem half as excited as he'd hoped._

"_And poppies. How could I forget the poppies?" He waved his hand expressively._

_Priscilla propped her chin up on one hand. Her auburn-red locks glistened softly in the warm spring sunlight. They reminded Guy of copper-colored velvet. "Poppies?" she mused, twirling a strand of hair around her finger absently. "We never had those back home in Etruria. What are they like?"_

"_Oh, they're unexplainable," he told her. "You haven't seen flowers if you haven't seen poppies. They come in all kinds of colors, from yellow to pink to cream, and mahogany… and blue."_

"_Blue?" Priscilla couldn't believe her ears._

_He nodded enthusiastically. "Blue! The most common color is saffron orange, but the most beautiful are the ones the bright scarlet hue of blood."_

"_Gee, that sounds appetizing," she teased. "I find it hard to think of bloody flowers as being beautiful."_

_Guy laughed. "They are, really. Whole fields of poppies carpet the countryside, so you can see the grasslands blanketed in color from far away. When the winds blow, the waves of flowers ripple and bob like water. The red ones are special. You can only find them near a certain area of Sacae where I grew up. People come from far and wide just for the privilege of seeing them."_

"_Fields of poppies? That sounds wonderful." Priscilla watched the clouds drift lazily by. "I'd love to see that sometime."_

"_Would you?"_

"_Oh, yes."_

"_Tell you what, Priscilla. After this war is over, I'll take you to Sacae to see the poppies."_

_She turned, surprise written on her face. He felt himself turn red. "Er, of course, if you'd rather not…."_

"_Guy," she told him softly, "I would love to see the poppies with you."_

The wyvern dove again. Guy ducked and rolled underneath the dragon's belly. Grasping the handle of his Killing Edge with both hands, he thrust it out hard. The point plunged deep into the dragon's stomach. Black blood fountained out over the blade of his sword.

The wyvern bellowed and reared, almost jerking Guy off his feet. The wyvern lord slashed at the myrmidon's unprotected head, but his dragon's wing impeded his movement. Guy jerked his sword free and sprang back, causing his enemy's blow to his neck to land its mark from cheekbone to ear. The burning feeling burrowed deep into his face and he fought back tears, to his shame and dismay. _What's wrong with me?_ he thought furiously. _I haven't cried since I was a child!_

_No. Once before._

"_Priscilla!" Serra screamed. She was the one who saw the cavalier, saw the lance plunge towards the troubadour. "PRISCILLA!"_

_The red-haired girl turned just as the lance flashed down. She uttered a terrified cry, and that was when Guy spotted her. "Priscilla! NO!"_

_The lance slammed into her, driving her off of her horse. She tumbled to the ground, her staff clattering beside her. Her horse reared and whinnied once before it was cut down._

_Guy raced towards her as Erk dispatched the cavalier. Overwhelmed with grief, the body of the troubadour was all he saw as he hacked his way through he enemy. "Priscilla!" he screamed. "Priscilla! Priscilla!"_

_He dropped to his knees beside her and gathered her into his arms. Her chest was drenched in red and her breathing was light. Her skin was like parchment. "Priscilla! Priscilla, open your eyes!" He was sobbing openly now, not caring who saw._

_Serra was beside him. "She's still alive! We won't be, though, if someone kills us while we sit her undefended!"_

_Erk ran and planted himself in front of them, an open spellbook in one hand, blasting anyone who ventured near. Raven joined him moments later. "I can't hold them off forever!" the mage shouted over his shoulder. Raven swore as his sword shattered in his hands. He snatched up the one Guy had discarded and dove back into the fray._

_Guy felt helpless, helpless to help Priscilla, help Erk, help Raven, help anyone. Serra fumbled with her staff as the wounded girl bled her life away in his arms._

_Erk took a blow to the side and staggered back. "SERRA!" he shrieked. "SERRA! HURRY UP!" A kick to the stomach sent him flying. He hit the ground hard and struggled to rise. Another kick sent him back down. A second cavalier attacked Raven with a lance, forcing the mercenary to focus solely on him. An enemy, a mercenary dressed in Bern's colors, slipped in between Raven and the fallen mage. Raising a sword, he brought it in a downward slash at Serra's back. Guy couldn't move, not with Priscilla in his hold. He watched as the sword came down-_

_-And as the enemy suddenly dropped it with a gurgle and toppled forward on his face, dead. Matthew the thief held a bloody dagger, standing where the mercenary had been moments before. He glanced back at Guy, his customary half-smile on his face even in the midst of the battle. "'Best get speedy there if you want to live," he advised. He tossed Guy a sword. The myrmidon caught it one-handed. "I brought you a spare. Thought you'd need it, what with you in the middle of the enemy like this." The thief went to stand by Erk as the mage recovered from his wounds, warding off enemy blows._

"_Blessed Elamine, heal this wound with your holy light," Serra chanted hurriedly. A soft blue aura enveloped them, and Guy felt Priscilla stir in his arms. Serra got up and raced towards Erk, already chanting the words. Guy was relieved to see the mage get to his feet, but even more to see Priscilla open her eyes. The color was back in her cheeks now._

"_Ah, hello Guy," she said weakly. Then her eyes cleared and she sat up. "Oh no! My horse- the cavalier- the battle-"_

_The voice of Lord Hector cut through the sounds of the fighting. "They're retreating, lads! Let's drive 'em off!" The weary troops gave a cheer and charged. Bern's soldiers were pressed back until finally they turned tail and ran._

_Guy was barely aware of the wetness on his face as he bent over her. "Priscilla!" he whispered. "Priscilla! It's over! We've won!"_

Guy skidded across the sand, stopping ten paces from the wyvern lord. He was tired; he could feel himself flagging. The poison had done its damage; he could barely stand. The wyvern lord was wearing him down, blow by blow, stab by stab. He leapt back and the dragon's claws shredded his shirt from shoulder to waist. The man's sword sliced down from above. Guy gasped and threw himself to the side. The blade slashed through his headband, narrowly missing his ear. The scrap of blue cloth fluttered down towards the sand, releasing a small white object that floated after it, unseen. The wyvern lord's lance gouged his side; he lost his balance and fell, slamming into the ground.

He saw Priscilla, up on her feet, her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. He stared up at the sky above the open roof of the Colosseum through a floating red haze, fighting the overwhelming urge to close his eyes and sleep, sleep forever. The clouds were wispy again, just like the day Priscilla had given him the feather. _I'm going to die,_ he thought, numb with shock. _I'm going to die. Oh, Priscilla, I'm so sorry…._

"_You can't die, Guy!" Priscilla wiped his feverish brow, her face as pale and drawn as his own. "You can't! Remember, you said you were going to become the greatest swordsman someday! What about your dream? You can't give it up now!"_

_Erk came in through the infirmary door, holding a steaming mug. He looked worried. "Eat something, Prscilla," he urged. "There are other healers who can relieve you. You can't help him if you're too exhausted to move."_

"_Erk, he's burning up! His fever-"_

_Erk pried her gently from her hold on Guy's hands. Her fingers slipped from the myrmidon's. "Please, Priscilla! You haven't slept in three days! You'll kill yourself-"_

_She fought his grasp like a wild animal. Guy could hear the mage calling for Raven to help him. "Guy!" she cried, her tears spilling over her cheeks. "Guy! You said Sacaens never lie! LET ME GO! GUY!"_

He lifted his fingers. They were stained crimson with blood. _The poppies… I never got to show them to you._

"_When the winds blow…"_

_I'm sorry, Priscilla. I promised you I'd bring you to Sacae to see the flowers. I guess…_

"…_The waves of flowers ripple and bob like water."_

…_I'll never be able to._

He closed his eyes as the shining sword flashed down for the last time. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. A victor had been found. Somewhere in the masses, a lone girl slumped in her seat, her hands over her face, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

In the arena, a single white feather drifted towards the ground. It brushed the cheek of the body of a young myrmidon on its way down. The tip touched the bloodstained sand, and scarlet raced all the way to the end of the shaft, staining it the color of bright Sacaen poppies.

Min: I actually _did_ do research on poppies and other flowers that grow on the plains for this fic. Whether poppies really do grow in Sacae, though, is beyond me.

Please leave me a review and tell me what you think. And thanks, everyone.


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